


A price to high to pay

by Dedalus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Not Beta Read, heroic!Stiles, neglectful!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 22:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dedalus/pseuds/Dedalus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When is a price to high to pay? How far would you go to achieve your wildest dreams?</p>
<p>Scott will learn just how much is too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A price to high to pay

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on here I normaly post on FF.net. I hope you can enjoy a little tear jerker! This was not beta read, so if there are any mistakes let me know so I can fix them.

When Scott McCall came home this evening he had a huge dopey smile on his face, because his last two days had been awesome. He had spent them with his girlfriend while her parents were away at some romantic retreat, read hunting trip, and his mother spend some time with her younger sister and his newly born baby cousin, every day after work for the next week.

His smile only left his face, when he noticed the scent of his best friend still lingered in the air when he entered his bedroom, which was strange because the last time Stiles had been here was at least four weeks ago, they hadn't talked in nearly as long. Between Alison, his new friendship with Isaac and the rest, that came with being a werewolf, their friendship had kinda been put on the back burner, but this was Stiles we're talking about here. Once everything calmed down a little, Scott would get a few Redbull and a family sized pizza and they would spent a night or two shooting stuff on the computer, it would be just like in the old days, just them against the world.

When he took a deeper breath to take a better “look” at his best friends scent, he felt something in the back of his mind tingle in alarm. The feelings within the scent weren't consistent, like they had changed while he stayed here. And while he consciously knew he should be spooked by the idea of his best friend hanging out in his house alone, he couldn't bring himself to care. It was Stiles. They had known each other since the day they started kindergarten together. He noticed the smell of giddy excitement, disappointment, resignation, hurt and anger all woven together and he  
couldn't make any sense of it. That was until he took a look at his mobile, the mobile he had on silent for the last two days, and flinched at the sheer number of texts and missed calls. 12 new text massages, 25 unanswered calls and 8 new voice massages, all from Stiles. 

Reading the first text massage his stomach dropped when he realized what had happened.

we still on for tonight? 

God they were supposed to hang out together last night, Stiles had cornered him after practice a few days before and demanded some bro time. Told him to fire up the X-Box and that he that he had a surprise for him. He was very mysterious about it. Scott remembered smiling at his friends dorky antics and agreeing, then Alison came around inviting him and then... then he just forgot anything else.

Trying to call Stiles was useless, all calls went directly to voice mail. Skype informed him that Stiles had blocked him. And going to the other boy's house would be useless, he knew Stiles had fortified his home using mountain ash and wolves bane, after one to many midnight visits from Derek and one to many practical jokes played on him by other members of the pack. The only way to get in was to announce your intention of visiting and have Stiles “disarm” his security measures.

Looking for a clue on what to do now, he found a note in the war zone he called a desk. It was in Stiles messy script and his heart raced as he read it, hoping his best friend would forgive him, like he had done so many many many times in the not so distant past, meaning since he was bitten.

Hi Scott,  
let me guess, you are with Allison? Why do I even bother, should have expected you would bail on me... again. At least it wasn't important, this time. 

So I was going to tell you this in person, but as it is easier to get an audience with the Pope than to get you to think with your brain instead of your dick, this has to do. I found a cure! 

You see the jewelery box on your nightstand? There is a necklace in there, wear it over night and – assuming my research is correct – you should wake up human again. But be warned, this comes with a price you might not want to pay!

If you still intend on carrying this out, you have to wear the pendent on your bare skin, the gemstone down on the center of your chest.

Your friend always  
Stiles

There were stains on the bottom of the page, Scott could feel the remaining wetness on the paper, taste the salt, smell the sadness. Tears. Stiles had been crying while writing this. Why? He could not tell. 

This was reason for celebration not sadness, he could be human again. No more supernatural crap, no more Derek, no more problems with his girlfriend's parents, no more fear of the full moon. This was his ticket out, he would not let this chance slip trough his fingers, consequences be damned! He would gladly pay every prize to get ride of this curse. Stiles could wait another day and tomorrow morning he would send Allison, Lydia or Danny to coax the other boy into leaving his fortress of solitude and they'd have the heart to heart they both had been craving for some time now.

Stripping down to his boxers, leaving his discarded clothes neatly folded on his desk chair, he moved to his bed and opened the little box Stiles had described. Inside the elaborately decorated box was a simple golden chain with an artfully crafted pendent that looked a little like the tattoo on Derek's back. A triskelion his inner Stiles supplied. It had the mentioned gemstone in the center. At first he thought it was a small ruby, but touching it it sent chills down his back and filled him with a sense of foreboding. Thinking it was his wolf rebelling against it's imminent eviction, he ignored it. 

Lying down in his bed he was asleep within minutes, but it was an uneasy slumber filled with feverish dreams.

\-----------------------------------

First dream:  
He was back in kindergarten, about four years old. Looking in the window, he was startled when he noticed that the face reflected there wasn't his chubby four year old one, but Stiles'. He could hear the door opening and see a much younger version of his mother entering the room. Melissa McCall in all her glory, carefree, innocent and lovely. All the things she lost in the divorce with his father. 

He could see himself, in all his wheezing glory, hiding behind his mother's legs, silently begging her to take him back with her. 

“Scott honey, your father and I have to work and you need to be around other kids. You'll find friends here!” His mom said.

He could see himself nodding, tears slowly filling his eyes. He could see his mother warring with herself not to just pull her baby boy into her arms and protect him from the world. He felt four year old Stiles making his way towards the two McCalls and see him tugging at his mothers sleeve.

“Hi, I'm Genim, but my daddy says that's a stupid name, everybody calls me Stiles. You a teacher here?” Stiles says in one breath and faster than a four year old should be able to.

“No Gen...” His mom stopped when she saw what must be a frown on young Stiles' face.  
“No Stiles. I'm Ms. McCall and I'm here to drop my son off. Say Scott hallo!”

Trough young Stiles' eyes he could see himself, pudgy tear streaked face and all, apprehensively looking from behind his mothers legs.

“Hi Scott wanna play a game? I hid some of the better games before Jackson could hog them!” Stiles' voice said.

He could see himself lightening up and nodding his head, before Stiles grabbed young Scott's hand and lead him away from his mother, who remained standing there flabbergasted about what just happened. 

\-----------------------------------

Second dream.

Judging from the face staring back at him from the mirror in the room, Stiles is about twelve in this one. And looking around the room, he had a bad feeling he might know what this one was about. As if trying to confirm his suspicions, a weak yet firm voice called Stiles' name.

“Genim come here for a moment.” Annika called his son to her bedside.

Yep, Scott remembered this day. It was the day Sophie died. 

“Mum?”He heard Stiles ask.

“Honey, I just want to tell you that whatever happens during the surgery, I will always love you. Just.... if anything happens to me I need you to stay strong. Your father might not look like it, but he will need you as much as you will need him. When you need someone to talk to, go to Melissa.” She spoke softly, but you could hear every word was straining work.

“Mum what are you talking about, you'll be fine. You get the surgery and tomorrow you'll wake up again and we'll play some game, I'll bring the chess set and we'll play like we always do, O.K.?” The boy replied.

“Sure!” The young woman replied, a sad smile gracing her handsome face.

The rest was scrambled. Sitting in the waiting room. Feeling fear clutching his stomach every time a doctor or nurse past the waiting room. Shaking with fear, when Melissa entered the room, tears in her eyes. Blackness until he wakes up the next morning in Scott's bed with the other boy wrapped around him like a human octopus, the smell of the other boy and his sheer physical presence the only thing holding Stiles together while he silently cried into his friends chest.

\-----------------------------------

Third dream

He woke up to the sound of a cell vibrating on the bedside table. Looking at the display he saw it came from... himself. He could feel Stiles' irritation at being awoken at such an early hour, and the fact the his best fried was hiding something had been for weeks now. Between them Stiles was the clumsy one not Scott. So how had his best friend managed to hurt himself so much in the last weeks? He could guess, but he really really hoped he was wrong

“Stiles I.... need…. help” Was all Scott could understand his own younger self saying before the line was cut off.

Of course, he remembered this. It was the last time he father abused him.

He could feel Stiles' inner turmoil, the thoughts running trough his Adderall and adrenalin scrambled brain. Nearly panicking the younger version of Stiles, from whose perspective Scott was witnessing this dream/memory, forced himself to calm down and try to come up with a viable reason while his friend would call him for help. The only reason he could come up with was the other boy's father. 

He remembered the long phone conversations they had, where they would try to keep Scott calm while his parents were downstairs screaming at each other. His father getting more and more aggravated every time, threatening them both, his”bitch” of a wife and her “bastard” of a son, with bodily harm. 

Fearing the worst he called his father, who was – naturally – on a case out of town, so he would need at least thirty minutes to get to the McCalls. Not wanting to imagine what that sick fuck could to to his best friend, Stiles grabbed his father's spare gun, the one he used to teach Stiles how to shoot, jumped on his bike and paddled as fast as he could.

Using the key he had since he was five, he opened the door to his best friends house and heard said friend whimpering in his room for his “daddy” to stop hurting him. Feeling anger like he never had never expiring before, he made his way upstairs. The scene that greeted him was horrible. Scott, face tear streaked and swollen to twice is normal size black and blue, trying to shield himself from more blows with his hands while the older man kept spewing obscenities.

Feeling his anger swell up even more, Stiles took a stand like his father had taught him, took of the safety, took aim and took the shot. The bullet, as intended, buried itself in the wall over the older man's right shoulder. The sound of the gun going off finally bringing an end to the never ending onslaught of punches.

“Let. Him. Go.” 

Even in this memory and with nearly three years between then and now, the sound of Stiles' voice still send shivers down Scott's spine. It was cold and threatening, something he had never associated with Stiles before or after. His father didn't seem be impressed.

“Or what? You are going to shoot me? You come into my house and order me around? Fuck off or I'm going to do to you, what I did to that little fucking wast of space, I'm forced to call my son....” 

He never got to finish his sentence. He had tried to intimidate the “young boy”, closing the distance between them, only to earn himself a bullet to the knee for his efforts. He could feel Stiles bending over the fallen shape of his father and whisper into his ear. He remembered that particular scene through the pain induced fog his father's beating had left him in, but never found out what Stile's had said and the other boy always refused to tell him.

“Listen you fucking excuse of a father. My dad will be here in ten minutes. Once he arrives I want you to confess to him what you did, and why I shot you. We'll make sure Melissa knows what happened here tonight, and once you are out of the hospital it is up to her to press charges, but when you leave this house tonight you'll never come here again or go near Scott or Melissa. I may only be thirteen, but I'm the sheriff's son and know ways to dispose of you that are unable to trace, are we clear?”

His father only nodded, when Stiles stepped over him to take care of his best friend. Later that night in the hospital, the Sheriff had posted two deputies outside his room in case his father did something stupid, his mother had told him under tears that she was sorry and his father would never darken their doorstep again.

\-----------------------------------

The fourth dream

“Dude you wanna to play some WoW later?” He heard Stiles ask, as Scott stood at his locker, to busy staring at Allison to acknowledge the other boy. Only Stiles cuffing him up the head brought him back from Allison-Land.

“DUDE?” Scott replied incredulous.

“I asked, if you wanted to play some WoW later on?” Stiles replied.

“Sorry, I've planes with Allison later on, tomorrow I'm training with Isaac, and the day after I'm on patrol duty, maybe another time?” Scott could hear his own voice in all it's fake apologetic glory, he could feel the hurt in Stiles coming from being, yet again, shot down.

“Yeah, sure.” Had the Scott in this memory paid any attention to his best friend, he might have seen the strain lines on his face, heard the heartache in his voice, smelt the sadness, but he didn't, he was too immersed in Allison to notice anything else. It broke his heart seeing his own actions through his best friends eyes. See him dismiss his oldest friend with such ease.

He had barely left when there were a pair of strong arms, pulling Stiles into the boys bathroom. There were claws slowly digging into his sides as a all to familiar voice hissed into his ears.

“Is icky Stilinski all alone? Has your boyfriend moved on to greener postures? This is the only warning I'll give you. You will stay away from Lydia, she is mine. You'll stay away from the pack, we don't need your useless human ass interfering in our business.” Jackson's voice sounded different trough his newly acquired fangs. His claws twisting it's way into Stiles side, meant to hurt.

“Remember!” And with that Jackson grabbed the back of his friend's head and smashed it, head first, into the wall. The sickening crunch of bones indicating Stiles' nose had been broken in the process. Jackson left and his friend sank to his knees crying. How had he not noticed this?

Once Stiles arrived home, the nurse had told him to go to the hospital, he was surprised by an angry glaring Derek sitting on his bed. Stealing himself, Stiles switched into his default smart ass mode to deal with everything.

“Hi sourwolf, how might I be of service today. Torching annoying relatives, keeping your ass out of jail by hide you in the sheriff's house, research something for you and your litter of cubs, suggestions for flea bathes and collars maybe?” He asked.

Scott knew what would come next, the same thing Derek always did and.... yeah here he was pressed to the wall, feet dangling above the ground held up by Derek Hale.

“Why do you reek of Jackson, and what has happened to you? Did you provoke him?” 

Of course it would be Stiles' fault Jackson was a total egocentric psycho. 

“No, he just warned me to stay away yadda yadda yadda. I'm not pack, so I should stay out of your business bla bla bla. Reminded me of how disgustingly human and how useless I'm, as if he had to remind me! So what do you want, I've had about enough of you guys today, all right?I'm just to tired of it all really. I'm just tired of being the excess baggage no one needs, and only keeps around for sentimental value. So tell me what you want, I'll see what I can do and then just I'll stay out of your way!” 

Scott could feel the tears welling up in memory Stiles' eyes. How could he have missed all the pain and misery Stiles had bottled up inside of him? There was a time when they just had to look at one another to know what the other was thinking. 

Derek took a step back, and trough Stiles' eyes, Scott could see the confusion and anger in the alpha's eyes.

“Stiles, Jackson does not speak on behalf of the pack. You might not be a wolf, but you still have a place with us, and we protect what is ours. You saved our lives more than enough times, you did a good job preparing Scott when he refused me. If anyone ever does something like this again, just tell me and I'll deal with them!”

OKAY that was sufficiently creepy. Derek comforting Stiles. The younger boy was silently crying into the mans shoulder, and Derek only put a comforting hand on his shoulder as Stiles cried his eyes out. 

“Let me guess, you forgetting what happened here is not an option?” The always sarcastic teen asked.

Derek only replied with a small, barely visible, said smile and shock his head no. 

“No, we are going to talk about all this, but first things first. My family owned this book and it was rumored to be magic. It was given to my family to protect nearly 400 years ago, before we even came to America. The priestess, that gave us the book, said only the essence of human and werewolf would be able to unveil the secrets that only a follower of the old ways would be able to understand. We never figured out what she meant by that!” The alpha said as he pulled out a small in bundle wrapped in leather.

Scott felt Stiles sigh, walking over to his closet and opening a panel on the bottom. His actions revealed a small safe, which he opened with a eight digit code and a key he had on a chain around his neck, muttering something about “I knew this would come to bite me in the ass someday.”. The took out a small wooden box and a package, bringing the items to his desk he put them carefully on his desk, next to the leather bound book Derek had brought.

“O.K. Here is the deal. My mother was a priestess of a very old religion. She was part of the order of Athena, the Greek Goddess of wisdom. Because I'm not a girl I could never follow my mother in her legacy, but her blood and her blessings still runs in my veins.” 

Slowly opening the box, be gently took out a goblet made of clay. Unwrapping the cloth from the other package, it turned out to be a strange looking dagger. No, no Derek had seen one of these before, it was a Athame, a ritual knife used in witchcraft.

“If my assumptions are correct, the spell protecting the script should be a blood one, keyed to members of the order and your family's bloodline. Why your bloodline? I have absolutely NO idea! Give me your hand!” Scott heard Stiles voice from his ego perspective.

When Derek offered his hand gingerly, Stiles took the ritual knife and sliced it down the palm, collecting the blood in the goblet. The cut took much longer to heal then it should, the knife had to be made out of silver. Once Stiles was satisfied with the amount of blood, he handed some paper towels to Derek and repeated the actions on his own hand.

Once the boys blood came in contact with the Derek's it started to sizzle and boil, but it did not clot, it turned to the deep royal blue of ink. Taking the book Stiles opened it in the middle and started pouring the blood between the pages. For a few minutes nothing happened until there was a rustling and the book turned itself to it's first page.

Derek looked a little dumbfounded, but not surprised and Scott could only assume such reaction came from growing up around the supernatural. The letters that had formed there were not English but Greek.

“Well that was unexpected!” Said Stiles as his eyes scanned the book's titel.

“You can read that?” Asked the alpha.

“Duh. That's Attic Greek, my mum taught me before I could read and write English. It says:“This is the story of King Lycaon of Arcadia, the father of the wolf people”. DUDE. This looks to be the real story how lycanthropy came upon earth. If the myths are true Lycaon tried to test Zeus' omnipotence by killing his own grandson on Zeus' altar and serving the god pieces of the boy as the main course. In his rage over the atrocity Zeus killed the king's son and put a curse on the old man himself. And BAM the werewolf race in born! Go I need to read the rest and translate it for you later. Shoo!” 

Derek left and Stiles continued reading until he found something that seemed interesting, a cure. He needed to held Scott no matter the coast, and tempering with a curse made by the father of gods himself would be costly.

Fifth dream:

Everything was white and bright. So bright in fact it hurt Scott's eyes. Looking down at himself he was glad to see he had his own body in this one. 

“Checking if everything is still there? Dude, you are just dreaming your body is still all right in the real world.” Came Stiles' voice from behind him. Turning around on instinct he hugged the taller boy and squeezed with all his might.

“Stiles? What's going on?”

“Lets just say this is my last goodbye. I told you the price for you cure would be high, and I wanted to talk to you today. Well I guess it just wasn't meant to be!” 

“What are you talking about?”

Looking down Scott noted that Stiles, too, was wearing white. On his chest was the exact replica of the pendant he wore on his sleeping body, except his gem stone was black.

“What did you do?” Scott asked, as tears for foreboding filled his eyes.

“To give you back your humanity, the wolf needed to go, but that's easier said than done. Zeus' curse attaches itself to the soul, the very being the life-energy of the person that gets infected. Meaning there is no viable way of removing the wolf without killing the person. The chain you wear around your neck was given to me by the Moirai.... the fates, it was my thread of life. When the amulet killed you and removed the wolf, the thread filled you with life force to revive you. As it is only meant to sustain one mortal life it canceled it's connection to me. To put it bluntly, the moment you put on the chain I died. Hermes promised me some time here in this limbo to say goodbye to you. I hope you can forgive me for being selfish, but it's my fault you ended up a werewolf. Had I not dragged you out to the woods that night, Peter would have never bitten you. This is my way of apologizing! So goodbye!” Stiles said as tears made their way down his face.

“Stiles what....” 

He never got to finish his sentence.

\-----------------------------------

Back in the here and now

Scott woke up with a start, he could feel the tears on his face, felt the sweat on his body. A dream, it was all just dream! That was the moment he noticed his asthmatic wheezing, the missing onslaught of scent and noise he had gotten used to over the past months.

His door opened and his mum came in, still wearing her uniform, tears steaming down her face. In this moment Scott knew it was all true. Stiles had sacrificed his own life to right a wrong he wasn't responsible for. His stupid brave and loyal best friend had given his life to give Scott his ultimate dream. 

He did the only thing that felt right in that moment, he broke down and cried for the friend he had lost, the friend he had taken for granted far to long and never appreciated until it was to late.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I hop you enjoyed the story.  
> Remarks and critic are welcome, one can only learn from one's mistakes.


End file.
